


Perception

by UnityGhost



Series: Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Asmodeus (Supernatural) Being an Asshole, Asmodeus - Freeform, Caring Sam Winchester, Christmas, Christmas Angst, Christmas Party, Comforting Sam Winchester, Crying Gabriel (Supernatural), Crying Sam Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Gabriel (Supernatural) Has Issues, Gabriel (Supernatural) Lives, Gabriel (Supernatural) Needs a Hug, Gabriel (Supernatural) has PTSD, Hell, Hell Trauma, Holidays, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Platonic Sabriel, Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels, Post-Season/Series 13, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Sam Winchester, Sabriel - Freeform, Self-Hatred, Sick Gabriel (Supernatural), Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 08:53:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17138765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnityGhost/pseuds/UnityGhost
Summary: “I could feel it coming on all night, but I was hoping it’d wear off once I got used to being here. I really thought I was on my way out of this. And my grace … sometimes it fluctuates by the hour.”





	Perception

**Author's Note:**

> Promised my readers a holiday-themed installment of Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels. Sorry it's a little late; I, too, wound up at a Christmas party and got distracted by a dinner comprised entirely of black coffee and homemade M&M cookies.
> 
> As I've said before, this series isn't always in order. If there's a special part of the story or a request or something, I'll jump forward or back in time. This takes place just a year after Gabriel's rescue (which I always figured took place in the fall, but I'm not fastidious about the timeline).
> 
> Anyway, come on over to Tumblr and let me irritate you, and/or contact me directly: http://unityghost.tumblr.com
> 
> Thanks for reading and happy holidays!

Gabriel really thought he’d been ready. But the air was thick with perfume, spices, meat, wine - and he needed to find an exit.

Mary Winchester’s friends were throwing a holiday party several miles north of the Men of Letters bunker. Just over a year had passed since Gabriel’s rescue from Hell, and he’d insisted to Sam - who had shown skepticism - that he could handle a crowd, and that he would probably enjoy seeing somewhere new. After all, Gabriel had accompanied them on a few hunts here and there and, for the most part, been fine.

Except that that was partly because his grace was now often at full strength. When Gabriel had enough of it on hand, he could shut out smells and sounds that drudged up bad memories. And while it was harder to ignore things that he could see in front of him, his grace gave him access to a clearer head and more self-control.

Yet even as his grace remained mostly steady, there were days when it fluctuated for no apparent reason. Gabriel had had moments when he would try and protect himself against things that upset him, only to find that he couldn’t. Inevitably, now and again he was compelled to eat to maintain his grace levels, or to get a few hours of rest.

After almost a thousand years of having it clawed out of him, perhaps Gabriel should have expected this quasi-gracelessness - this never knowing whether he would be at full power, or some power, or no power. But he’d been so desperate to get his grace back that he hadn’t once stopped to think that it might not be the same as it had been before.

It was exhausting. He simply wanted the random ebb and flow of grace to stop - even if it meant leaving him with no grace at all. That was better than wanting his grace and sometimes having access to it, then having it torn out of his grasp within a matter of hours.

Now, swallowed up by the crowd of strangers, he wove his way towards the door, all the while snatching glimpses of unfamiliar forms and faces. The Christmas jazz playing in the background flowed in and out of his ears - a brass rendition of _Hark, the Herald Angels Sing_.

It suddenly struck him that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d sung anything. He had once had a good voice, but hated to think what centuries of silence might have done to it.

“Gabriel?”

Gabriel jumped and whirled around, but relaxed when he saw who it was. “Cas. What’s up?”

Castiel frowned. “Are you going somewhere?”

“No - I just needed a second of the outside world, that’s all.”

“Is something wrong?”

Gabriel waved a dismissive hand. “My grace is acting up. I was feeling a little too warm.”

Castiel looked closely at him. “Then why are you so white?”

“Oh my _god_ Castiel, you can’t just _ask_ people why they’re _white_.”

Cas looked at him blankly.

“Ask Dean; he loves that movie. Anyway, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“May I come with you?”

Taken off-guard, Gabriel considered. One he got outside, he wasn’t sure what to expect from himself: there were things he may not want Castiel to see. On the other hand, Castiel had already witnessed some of Gabriel’s darkest moments, so perhaps there was no good reason to resist.

“All right,” said Gabriel. “Let’s go.”

They pushed through the remainder of the crowd, and Castiel opened the front door so that they could step outside together. Gabriel immediately regretted leaving his coat behind - he’d brought it to the gathering because iffy grace made him sensitive to cold - but didn’t dare go back inside to retrieve it.

“May I touch you?” Castiel asked.

Gabriel cast him a quizzical glance. “Okay.”

Castiel laid a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder and squeezed it. “I can tell something’s bothering you.”

Gabriel looked away. “Long night. Funky grace. Leaves me feeling kind of antsy.”

“No, I recognize the look on your face. Something’s upset you.”

Gabriel swallowed.

“Tell me,” Castiel said softly.

Gabriel’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know, Cas; I - there’s this feeling I get, this awful feeling. It screws with how I see the whole world. It makes things seem … perverted. Dark. Sick. People, places, whatever's in front of me. And it happens when I get wound up because of some stupid noise or smell or whatever. So I just … I needed to come out here and cool off.”

Castiel clutched his shoulder more firmly. “What made you feel that way just now?”

Gabriel’s stomach turned. “Don’t. Don’t make me talk about it.”

“Gabriel, if - ”

“Guys?”

They both looked up to find Sam leaning out the door, looking puzzled.

“Hello, Sam,” Castiel acknowledged.

“What’re you doing out here? I saw you heading toward the door and tried to follow but, uh …” He stepped outside and shut the door behind him. “One of Mom’s friends had a few too many glasses of champagne and was getting a little close for comfort.”

“Gross,” said Gabriel.

“Why are you out here?”

“Gabriel was feeling uneasy,” Cas explained before Gabriel could respond.

Sam’s face fell. “What happened?”

“I, uh …” Gabriel scratched the back of his neck. “Thought I’d clear my head. Nothing crazy.” _Except me,_ he added silently.

Sam stepped closer, examining him. “You look like you’re going to puke.”

“I’m not. Seriously - just a few minutes and I’ll be okay. Now get back inside; Mary’s bachelorettes are waiting for you.”

“No, I think I’m having more fun out here.”

“Then Cas, go check on Dean and make sure he doesn’t need a liver transplant. At least one of you needs to be off angel-sitting duty.”

Castiel glanced between the two of them before meeting Sam’s gaze, and Gabriel recognized their unspoken agreement: _He needs you, Sam, but I’m close by if you need me._

Gabriel’s insides twisted with guilt.

Castiel went back into the house and Sam, who’d had the sense to wear a coat, turned back to Gabriel. “So you weren’t up for it after all, I guess.”

“Welp,” said Gabriel, “I’m big enough to admit when I’m wrong. Normal life is beyond my league. Why’d you even listen to me in the first place? Clearly my judgment’s every bit as whacked out as I am.”

“What’s going on?”

Gabriel sighed, looking away. “My grace is wonky tonight. So I couldn’t block out all the smells and the music and the voices and I ... I started to feel sick.”

Sam nodded. “You want me to tell Dean and Cas it’s time to head out?”

“No way! Let them have their fun. Ignore me and my passive-aggressive constitution.”

“All right. How are you feeling now?”

Gabriel hesitated, and considered telling Sam that he felt better. But Sam had a frustratingly keen eye for the truth, so perhaps it wasn’t worth the effort. “Pretty bent out of shape, I guess. I … it’s that gross feeling I get where everything seems …”

“I think you’ve described it as ‘grotesque.’”

“Yeah. That.”

“Huh.” Sam thought. “You want me to ride it out with you?”

Gabriel shrugged.

“You know I don’t mind,” Sam insisted. “Especially with Lorelei in there trying to get me into the corner.”

“If you want to.” A gust of wind whipped against Gabriel’s face, speckling it with snow.

“You’re freezing,” Sam observed. “What happened to your - ”

“Inside.”

“I can go get it for you.”

Now that Sam had offered to stay, Gabriel squirmed at the notion of being left on his own again. “No. Don’t. I have a nice cozy sweater.”

“A sweater and limited grace.” Sam shrugged off his own jacket and offered it to Gabriel.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a martyr. The last thing I need on my conscience is a Samsicle.”

“Take it,” Sam insisted. “Even at full stock you haven’t gained enough weight to keep you warm. I have three times the insulation you do. Here.”

“You’re annoying,” Gabriel replied, but accepted the coat and slipped it on. It was like being draped in a duvet. “Good, this’ll bulk me up a solid ten pounds.”

“Gabriel,” said Sam, “Why didn’t you come find me?”

“Obviously because you were busy getting it on with Lorelei.”

“I’m serious; what made you decide to run out into the cold by yourself?”

Gabriel shifted his feet on the damp driveway. “I don’t know. I guess … I guess I started to panic a little. For a second there I thought I would vomit on some innocent partygoer. And I’m not interested in looking like the town drunk.”

“What about now?”

“Now? I just feel stupid.”

“What else?”

“I don’t know, Sigmund. Just overall pretty disgusting.”

“It’ll pass.” Sam tried to sound reassuring, but Gabriel could hear the concern underneath.

“I could feel it coming on all night,” Gabriel admitted, lowering his gaze to his feet. “But I was hoping it’d wear off once I got used to being here.” He shivered, huddled inside Sam’s jacket, trying to quell the nausea raking at his throat. “I really thought I was on my way out of this. And my grace … sometimes it fluctuates by the hour.”

“I know. Give it some time. I’m sure it’ll get back to normal sooner or later.”

“Yeah, well, hopefully in less than another eight and a half centuries.”

“Your grace is stronger than that.”

“Maybe. Used to be, anyway.” Gabriel looked up, watching the snow swirl down more heavily. It made him dizzy. “Sam?”

“Yeah?”

Gabriel’s voice trembled. “It’s not letting up. I feel …”

Sam reached out and touched his shoulder. “Is it something particular or you can’t really figure it out?”

“They were about to have a whole feast in there. The meat, it’s … you know.”

“Right. I remember.”

One of the lowest points of recovery, at least in Gabriel’s mind, had been set off by the powerful odor of Dean’s lamb recipe. Gabriel’s response was to lose awareness of his surroundings so that Sam practically had to drag him out of the kitchen. Secure in Sam’s bedroom, Gabriel had admitted to confessing in detail how Asmodeus had torn out his viscera and forced it down his throat. Once the truth was in the open, Gabriel lapsed into a fit of panic. The only good to come out of that episode had been an increased faith in Sam’s willingness to deal with Gabriel at his worst.

“And,” Gabriel went on, still avoiding eye contact, “There was perfume all over the place, and body heat, and … I just couldn’t stay in there.”

Sam creased his brow. “Perfume bothers you?”

“Hell has a robust inventory of succubi. And they smell like rose gardens until it comes time to rip their victims open and you can just about _taste_ the shredded organs in the air.” He struggled to get a full breath. “Being surrounded by all those people I didn’t know … everyone close enough to touch … the music …” He grimaced. “I don’t know what it was about the music. Reminded me of better days and somehow made everything worse at the same time. So all of that and now I feel like I’m not here.”

“No, hey, you’re okay.” Sam spoke gently. “Nothing is going to hurt you, Gabriel.”

Gabriel closed his eyes. “That was too much.”

“Yeah, I know, but we’re outside now.”

“It isn’t going away on its own; it - sometimes it last for hours. I can’t do that tonight. I can’t. Not again.” Gabriel opened his eyes and hugged himself, a protective reflex that still refused to die even after all this time.

“Then let me help,” Sam answered. “What can I do to keep you from getting caught up in that feeling, Gabriel? Here - ” Sam reached down and took Gabriel’s hand. “That feels safe, right? It doesn’t feel like that messed-up world you see around you, does it?”

Gabriel looked down at their hands. His was small and pale. “No.”

“Good. So. I want you to focus on that, all right? Just hold on. You’ll get both feet in the present, I promise.”

Gabriel nodded.

“And if you don’t think you can do anything about it, that’s okay too. All right? No one’s mad. No one’s going to be angry if you have a little trouble keeping it together.”

“Okay.”

There were a few moments of quiet. Then Gabriel said, “I feel sick.”

“You haven’t had anything to eat over the last few days. Your grace was fine, right?”

Gabriel shook his head, suddenly feeling panicked. “Yeah, well, now it isn’t. And I think I have to throw up. Crap Sam, I’m sorry - ”

“No, no, hey, we’ve talked about that. It’s all right.”

Gabriel let go of Sam’s hand to bend double over the snowy pavement. “You’re supposed to be inside enjoying yourself. And I - ”

“Calm down,” Sam placed a hand on Gabriel’s back. “Just calm down.”

Gabriel spat onto the pavement, trembling. Once he began gagging he found that Sam was right: there was nothing in his stomach except bile. Once he got that out, he retched over and over, bringing up nothing; and yet his body was desperate for release, for proof that some part of him was not locked in place.

“Easy, Gabe,” Sam said softly.

Gabriel heaved again, then grated out, “Sorry. Gross and pointless.”

“Don’t talk about Dean that way.”

Gabriel didn’t smile. “That hurt like a bitch.”

“Because you had nothing to throw up.”

“In that case I shouldn’t have been sick to my stomach in the first place.” Tremulously, he straightened back up. “But I guess psychosis doesn’t play fair, does it?”

“You’re not psychotic, Gabriel. It makes sense that you’d get scared by something that’s indicated a real threat before.”

“Sam, I - ” Gabriel huddled deeper inside Sam’s coat, trying to keep warm but also making a vague attempt to hide. “Sometimes I think - I think I’m borderline hallucinating.”

Sam frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Like …” Gabriel tried to figure out just how he wanted to explain. “Like sometimes I think he’s in the room with me. Feels like he’s standing there. My skin crawls, Sam. As if he’s breathing down my neck.” He shook his head. “But of course it’s always just my mind playing filthy tricks.”

“Gabriel, that still doesn’t sound anywhere near psychotic. You’re just on edge all the time because you weren’t allowed to let your guard down when you were with Asmodeus. It’ll go away. I used to get that too - Lucifer standing right next to me.”

But Sam looked uncertain, and Gabriel knew what he was thinking: things were different now, because eventually Lucifer really was at his side.

“I don’t know,” Gabriel went on, trying not to think about how Asmodeus, too, could come back to him. “Maybe it’ll stop someday. Maybe my grace’ll return. Maybe Castiel will learn how to play Cards Against Humanity without trying to be logical instead of hilarious. Who cares anymore, Sam? You guys - you’re lucky. Lucky you have such short lives. Must make things a hell of a lot easier.”

There was a long silence, broken only by a harsh gust of wind and a burst of laughter from inside the house.

“Whoops,” said Gabriel.

Sam took a deep, slow breath, then exhaled a silvery cloud of air.

“What can I say to deflect a diatribe?” asked Gabriel.

Sam didn’t reply, and Gabriel couldn’t read his expression.

“Maybe you should go back in,” Gabriel suggested.

But instead, Sam spoke. His voice was low, almost foreboding. “I thought you’d moved on from that. But I guess you just haven’t brought it up.”

Gabriel stiffened. “Well, it doesn’t exactly make for uplifting conversation.”

“And how many of our conversations qualify as ‘uplifting’?”

Gabriel shrugged. “You take a very zen approach to most things. ‘You’ll get better.’ ‘Nothing is permanent.’ ‘Be patient with yourself.’ So I’m pretty sure you go for uplifting. But me? I’m hopeless, Sam. We both know that; I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it until one of us dies.”

“Gabriel, you just have to wait for your grace to - ”

“Even if my grace levels even out, there’s no guarantee that the rest of this won’t last forever. And you, your brother, your mom - every one of you has a definite end. For me, the only surefire stopping point is an archangel blade where it hurts.”

Sam’s eyes brightened with terror. “I can’t have you thinking that way.”

“Me neither.” The calmness of Gabriel’s voice surprised even him. “That’s the problem. It’s torture, Sam. Sometimes I think I’m no better off without Asmodeus than with him. The only difference is at least when I was down there, I got what I deserved. But pulling the emergency brakes would be a double win: I get what’s coming to me, and after that I don’t even have to think about it.”

Reflexively, because he didn’t want to watch Sam’s reaction, Gabriel turned away and stared into the snowfall, letting his eyes trace the patterns of individual flakes as they fell to the ground.

As a full minute went by without a response, Gabriel realized that Sam must be furious. In the past, Sam had reacted with rage to such words.

Gabriel’s heartbeat picked up, and he felt dangerously close to another round of dry-heaving. Was it really a good idea to stay facing away from Sam? Should Gabriel even try to defend himself? After all, what was the point of protection when his behavior - his entire existence - warranted every moment of whatever was coming next?

Gabriel whimpered, body tight with anticipation.

But when nothing happened, when the silence stretched on, he slowly turned around.

“Sam!” Gabriel was so startled that he forgot to be afraid. “Sam, what the hell?”

Sam didn’t say anything, just stood still and watched Gabriel through eyes flooded with tears.

Gabriel stared in horror. “Sam?”

“What am I supposed to expect from you, Gabriel?” Sam’s voice was strangled. “Am I just supposed to start bracing myself for a dead body every time I step into your room?”

Gabriel shrunk away. “I guess not as long as you keep the blade locked somewhere I can’t find it.”

Sam snorted. “Oh yeah? Sure sounds like you’re determined to find it one way or another.”

“I’m not! I just …”

When Gabriel didn’t continue, Sam’s gaze hardened. “You just what?”

Gabriel felt a sudden urge to dart away from Sam, into the liberty of darkness; into a gaping, unfamiliar space; into dangers he knew should have already been thrown in his path; into a broad, cold world in which he would never have to make anyone look at him ever again. “I just … sort of keep my eyes open for it.”

Sam gritted his teeth. “You don’t need me to tell you that it amounts to the same thing! Besides, Gabriel - where’s the line? When does ‘I just keep my eyes open’ become ‘sometimes I move things out of the way to see if the blade’s there’? You’re not going to realize when this changes into something you can't stop. And _I_ won’t see it until it’s too late because you won’t let me! You know what’s gonna happen? What’s gonna happen is you’re going to let this grow and grow until one day you look at it and realize it’s not the ‘maybe’ that you used to play around with.”

Gabriel took a step back, terrified by the light in Sam’s eyes. “Sam, you’re wrong; it’s not the same thing. This - this is a more, ah ... casual approach.”

“Well then how about _no_ approach, Gabriel? What do you expect me to do with this? Am I gonna have to put you on lockdown just to make sure you don’t throw a whole _year_ of work down the toilet?”

Gabriel gave a choked cry. “No, don’t lock me up. Don’t. Don’t do that, please. You haven’t wasted your time, Sam; I promise you haven’t - I’m still working on - ”

“It’s not _my_ time, Gabriel; it’s _yours_! You gave just as much as I did and I know you _know_ that! Somewhere in you, some part of you that Asmodeus never touched, you _know_ that!”

From within the house, the Christmas music grew louder. _God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen._

Gabriel lowered his head and clutched his hair in both fists.

“Gabriel, say something!” Sam snapped. “Or I’m taking you back to the bunker now whether you want me to or not!”

“Sam, stop,” Gabriel whimpered.

“Then tell me what you expect me to do with what you just told me!”

Gabriel tightened his grip. “No, _stop!_ Sam, I believe you!”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not! I have no reason not to trust you on this! You’ve never given me any reason not to trust you!” His breathing quickened and he could feel tears forming in his own eyes as he made a frantic attempt to deflect Sam’s rage. “I’m sorry I don’t trust you. That’s on me. Because I don’t know how to trust you. I don’t trust anyone; I can’t. But if you think Asmodeus didn’t totally demolish me, maybe - maybe you’re right; I don’t know.” He let out a sob. “I’m trying, Sam! I’m really trying!”

Sam shook his head. “If you’re trying, how can you still be on the hunt for the blade?”

“I’m trying _not_ to be!”

“Then why haven’t you told me what’s going through your head?”

“Because I keep hoping it’ll go away!” Gabriel began to cry more forcefully, still clutching his hair. “I’m sorry, Sam! I’m not expecting you to fix what’s wrong with me, but I’m not ready for you to change your mind. I know, I _know_ , Sam, that I have no right to make you into the difference between me trying and me giving up, but - ” Gabriel let his hands slide from his hair to cover his face. “But you are.”

He felt Sam studying him from a few feet away. It was like being stripped, not quite in the way Asmodeus had done it but more as though someone were searching him for a bruise or infection.

“Gabriel.”

This time, when Gabriel looked into Sam’s face, he saw more resolve - more of the firm conviction that Gabriel could and would escape the worst possible damage.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Sam’s voice was quiet and gentle now. “So I guess neither are you.”

Gabriel thought of all the reasons Sam would choose not to stay and help - thought of all the blunders that might lead to the same penalties inflicted every time Asmodeus spotted the wrong movement, heard the wrong turn of phrase, spotted the wrong place to stand or sit or lie down; thought of how Sam was standing in a sweater, snowflakes gathering in his hair, while Gabriel had not earned the privilege of warmth.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Sam said, interrupting his thoughts. “I just don’t want you to do anything to yourself. I don’t want you to hide from me, Gabriel. Because the longer you stow it away like this, the bigger it’s going to get. The harder it’ll be to move past it. So I’m not going to punish you if you let me know you’re feeling like you might do something serious, okay? I won’t. But you have to give someone a heads up. Even if you don’t want to.” He paused. “ _Especially_ if you don’t want to.”

Gabriel lowered his face again, letting the tears freeze against his cheeks. 

“It’s cold,” Sam pointed out.

Immediately, Gabriel started to wriggle of out Sam’s coat.

Sam grabbed his wrist. “I’m fine. I just noticed that you were shivering.”

Gabriel shook his head. “That’s not why.”

“Oh. Got it. Okay, let me help.”

Gabriel didn’t try to fight when Sam pulled him into a hard, warm grip. It was strange to feel the snow at his back and the gentle beat of Sam’s heart against his ear. He trembled, letting the fear and the shame envelop him and no longer trying to force down the sense that he was still with Asmodeus.

As though reading his mind, Sam said, “You’re right here. I’m right here. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

Gabriel sucked in a jerky breath. “Takes - takes just a little Christmas cheer and suddenly I’m a basket case with no eggs in my basket.”

“Hey, I think you’ve still got one or two.”

“No thanks to me.”

Sam squeezed tighter.

“Flaky grace,” Gabriel murmured. “It’s a bitch.”

“It’ll get back to normal.”

“But how long am I going to have to wait?”

“I guess there’s no telling. Just let it go at its own pace.” Sam made to pull away, but Gabriel held on.

“Don’t,” Gabriel moaned. “Don’t do that.”

“Okay.” Sam pulled him close again. “Okay, sorry. I’m right here.”

Gabriel shut his eyes again. He could have fallen asleep standing up. This, being held like this, might be the only way to stop the nightmares.

“I hate being so freakin’ scared,” Gabriel said thickly. “It’s like a house of horrors. I wish I could describe it better, but I don’t know how to explain what a bad dream feels like. No control. No escape. This riles me up in a way nothing else can.”

“Ssh, it’s okay. Just let yourself breathe. Let it wear off.”

Gabriel turned his head so that his face was buried in Sam’s chest. He was long past caring about humiliating himself. “I can’t take this. I need it to stop.”

“I know,” Sam said softly. “I know, Gabriel. Let’s wait for it to quiet down together.”

“I think I’m going to start throwing up again.”

“No you’re not. Hold onto me, okay? Just focus on that. Block out everything else and just try to feel safe.”

Before Gabriel could reply, the door opened once more and Castiel stepped outside. “Sam, is everything all right?”

“We’re okay,” Sam said.

“How is he?”

“Taking a breather.”

“Does he need to lie down?”

Gabriel jerked his head up. “No.” He didn’t want to go inside.

Castiel looked him up and down, then nodded. “It’s late. Gabriel, if your grace is low, you must be tired. Let’s go back to the bunker.”

“That’s true,” Sam muttered to Gabriel. “It’s at least ten o’ clock and it takes three hours to get home even when it’s not snowing.”

“All right.” Gabriel’s voice was hoarse.

This time, when Sam released him, Gabriel didn’t try to hold on. 

“You’re with us, right?” Sam asked under his breath. “You’re here?”

“Mostly.”

Sam turned to Castiel. “How far gone is my brother? I’m going to to stay in the back with Gabriel, so you’ll have to drive if Dean can’t.”

“Dean doesn’t want anyone else at the wheel even in the best of circumstances. The second he saw the snow, he decided it was better to refrain from overindulgence.”

“You ever want to see Dean exercise self-control, just threaten him with his car.”

“I’ll find him. Wait here.” 

Once Castiel had gone back in, Gabriel collapsed against Sam again.

“Hey,” said Sam, surprised, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Sam,” Gabriel replied. “I’m just sorry I thought I could do this. I wasn’t ready.”

“It’s okay. You tried.”

“I took you away from all the fun.”

“You took me away from a swarm of people I’ve never met and who I’ll probably never see again. The only time I’d do that voluntarily is if I were on a case. And besides, you know I want to help you.”

“I know.”

“Do you actually?”

“I’m not sure. But like I said, I’m trying.”

There were a few moments of silence, and only as the door re-opened to usher Dean and Castiel back into the snowy darkness did Sam answer, “I believe you.”


End file.
